


Ephemeroptera

by vikkah



Category: Samurai Warriors (Video Games), Sengoku Musou
Genre: 6.4k words, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mitsunari being a fucking idiot and not realizing his feelings, Resolved Romantic Tension, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikkah/pseuds/vikkah
Summary: Mayflies belong to the order of Ephemeroptera, which largely consists of a variety of insects. They are a sorrowful group of insects which only have a short lifespan of 24 hours. Mitsunari has always been fascinated with them, infatuated with their beautiful and seemingly insignificant existence.





	Ephemeroptera

A folk tale circulated around the families of Sawayama. The fable had passed onto mothers which then naturally reached children's ears.

 

"Mother! Please tell me the story again!", the child pleaded and tugged at his mother's sleeve.

 

The clothes she wore were a dull grey, with brown patches of cloth sewn here and there. Dark shadows hung under her eyes. Her cheeks were thin and sunken, her complexion drained of colour.

 

However, her smile was filled to the brim with warmth and exuded motherly love. This seemed to negate her ashen appearance.

 

"This is the already the second time, are you sure?", she laughed as she was fixing her hair.

 

Her long umber hair was held up into a ponytail by a single bright red ribbon. The silk ribbon had beautiful little golden designs of lilies sewn onto its lining.

 

"Please!", the child begged once more.

 

The mother conceded without much resistance, "Alright, little one. But promise me to go to bed after this."

 

"Promise!", his eyes burned with intensity.

 

She lifted the child by the waist and set him down on her lap. Her arms gently enclosed around him, as if they were a cradle.

 

The boy snuggled between his mother's arms and listened with rapt attention. Occasionally, he would stop her with peculiar queries.

 

_Long, long ago, there ruled a kingdom in a magical forest. The king was a proud fox. The fox had a beautiful coat which made the other animals stare with envy._

 

Her voice was sweet as honey and more harmonious than a songbird.

 

"A fox as its ruler? Mother, such a kingdom exists?"

 

She laughed and tousled his hair.

 

_The animals in the forest admired him. The fox made the kingdom prosper, every harvest was abundant and the citizens were happy._

_He kept few animals close. A bear, a tiger and a mayfly stayed by his side. He appointed his friends as his royal guards._

_One day, a noble raccoon built a castle close to his. Over time, the raccoon's kingdom became more prosperous and joyous. Whispers of an endless supply of sweet berries and fish reached the fox's kingdom. The animals were compelled to move to the other castle. The fox didn't have an endless supply of fish and berries, so why should they stay? Even the bear followed._

"They're such bad citizens!", the boy interjected.

 

_The fox started to treat its citizens and friends very badly out of spite. He imprisoned anyone who would dare to leave his kingdom. Because of this, the kingdom fell into despair. Harvests were scarce and the animals lived in poverty. The animals blamed him for the kingdom's shortcomings._

 

_"It's your fault! Your fault!", a crow screeched._

_"It's a curse... He brought a curse upon us!", a snake hissed._

_"Hmph! I knew he was incompetent!", a wolf howled._

The mother mimicked these voices in a screechy and comical tone, making the boy burst in childlike laughter.

 

_The rueful fox took refuge in isolation from the unending rain of jeering from the other animals in the forest and found solace in counting fallen leaves near its den._

_As time passes, its once lavish autumn coat transformed into a drab grey. The fox skinned his prey and wore their fur, in a desperate attempt to conceal the ugliness within and to restore its pride._

_The friends of the fox took pity, so they asked the fox to come back. Sadly, the fox refused and lashed out at his friends. Despite lashing out, one friend stayed._

"Which one?", the child asked, although he knew the answer.

_The mayfly stayed by his side. He worked really hard to cheer up the fox. The fox felt he was truly happy with the mayfly._

"Will I find someone like the mayfly too, mother?", he yawned.

 

"Of course, dear... Someday you will.", she chuckled.

 

_Unfortunately, the mayfly died shortly after. Mayflies die more quickly than other animals. The fox was left all alone in its den…_

“Why did the mayfly leave, mother?", he inquired one last time, "The fox will be so sad… I’ll accompany the fox!”

 

"You have such a big heart, Mitsunari...", she whispered,” The mayfly didn’t leave at all… He would always watch over the fox…”

_Without the mayfly, the fox was heartbroken and he eventually…_

 

His mother's voice started to increasingly fade away as his eyelids became more and more heavy.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

 

Mitsunari sat in the middle of the dimly lit room. He took out a brush from his silken sleeves. With almost robotic-like movements, he began to dip his brush into jet black ink and wrote calculations for rations and supplies for an upcoming battle in Shikoku.

 

The characters written had graceful strokes. There were even spacing between each of them and none were out of place.

 

He began to absorb himself in his work. Character after character, stroke after stroke, numbers after numbers... Time seemed to stand still. This was his hobby after all, calculations, measurements, diagrams, all too familiar and comfortable.

 

However, today was different. There was no zeal in his work. Only traces numbness and lethargy were left behind. He realized he made an error in his calculations and quickly crossed it out. Another attempt was made but the result had an equivalent value with the previous error. Then another attempt. And another. And another...

 

"What... what? That's too little of a value... That doesn't make sense!", he growled.

 

No matter how many attempts he made, he couldn't find the appropriate result.

 

A loud thud echoed through the still room as he landed his fist on the wooden table.

 

"Then why...", his voice starting to quiver.

 

None of this have ever happened to him before. He boasted his calculations to be perfect, excellent, impeccable! How could he fail such a task? A vital one at that... If one would make a blunder at such a crucial moment, it would be absolutely unforgivable.

 

A single miscalculation could end up costing a victory. Besides that, so much lives could be lost!

 

_…Lives?_

 

Mitsunari shook his head.

 

 _No, they are just numbers_ , he reassured himself.

 

_How would Hideyoshi handle this?_

 

A cheerful voice rang in his head.

 

"Why are you cooped up in your room? Come, drink with me! Surely you will clear your head after drinking! Hahaha!", the voice bellowed.

 

Usually when faced with a problem, Hideyoshi would make merry in the red-light district and would drink wine till sunrise.

 

Unfortunately, Mitsunari was lightweight. Additionally, he never dared to step into a brothel, let alone flirt with multiple women. Not to mention how disappointed Lady Nene would look if he dared to play with a vixen.

 

Mitsunari felt a certain hollowness in his chest when reminded of those two.

 

"...my Lord", he whispered solemnly.

 

Tears streaked down his fair cheeks. Slowly but surely, teardrops fell onto the thin wax paper, making the ink run and consequently distorting his writing. He buried his face with his hand and held his ivory brush with the other.

 

He tried his best to keep his hand steady while writing but to no avail. The result was sloppy and blotchy text.

 

He gently put down his brush next to the ink container. His fist tightly curled into a ball, the claws deeply sank into the palm of his hand. His teeth clenched to desperately prevent any sound to come out from his mouth. The more he resisted, the bigger the lump in his throat got.

 

Occasionally, small gusts of wind would rattle the brass wind chimes outside. The gleeful notes produced trickled into the room, filling the empty silence. Muffled cries followed suit.

 

Mitsunari shut his eyes and he was brought back to that exact moment.

 

Retainers crowded around Hideyoshi, all wearing grim expressions on their faces, their countenance pallid.

 

Hideyoshi, in his decrepit state, weakly squeezed Mitsunari's hand. He couldn't bear to see his Lord in this state so he forcefully closed his eyes, only to hear a pitiful voice.

 

"Mitsunari, Ieyasu...", he whispered.

 

Mitsunari fiercely bit the inside of his cheeks, his hand tightly wound around Hideyoshi's icy fingers.

 

"Take care of Toyotomi for me... You two really are my best retainers...", he let out a heavy cough.

 

An almost inaudible sniffle sounded from across the packed room.

 

"Don't cry... I don't want anyone to be sad on my funeral...ha ha..."

 

The uplifting intonation at the end of his remark recaptured the memories of his jolly self. Even in his last moments he would try to warm up the atmosphere.

 

This seemed to break Ieyasu. A sharp cry escaped from his mouth as he collapsed on the floor. Others soon followed. Dismal wailing and bawling echoed in Mitsunari's aching head. It felt like it was about to split in two.

 

Mitsunari painfully opened his eyes.

 

He found himself standing over a grave. Cries earlier had stopped to a halt, leaving only eerie silence to accompany him.

 

A nearby stone lamp emitted soft yellow light, illuminating the snowy terrain below. Cherry blossom petals were scattered about.

 

One of Hideyoshi's favourite cranes approached cautiously. The crown on its head was of a brilliant red, its feathers the colour of pearls. Its long neck was pulled back as it was resting near a cherry blossom tree situated to the right of the grave.

 

A grandiose headstone loomed over him.

 

 _Hideyoshi Toyotomi_ was meticulously inscribed on its smooth surface, as if Mitsunari was the one who did it himself. A series of intricate designs of the Toyotomi family crest was carved around his name.

 

Mitsunari slowly lowered his head to look at the ground before him. A stabbing pain went through his chest.

 

Hideyoshi's inanimate body lay in a freshly dug hole on the ground. He was encased in sombre chalky robes which complimented the snowy ground. His face was serene, knowing he could put his full trust on his two best retainers.

 

Mitsunari vehemently kneeled, his knees firmly planted on the ground and his claws furiously dug into the snow.

 

Amid his ugly sobs he muttered, “My Lord... I... I couldn't do this alone..."

 

His voice cracked and shattered.

 

He slightly lifted his head. The area around him started to distort.

The cherry blossom tree had withered, its bark decayed and rotten. Its wretched branches had contorted to look like arms reaching out for help.

 

Ruby spider lilies sporadically sprouted from the ground, defeating the cherry blossoms in number.

 

The complex Toyotomi family crest on the headstone warped and twisted. Its pattern frantically struggled to take form until its lines had curved into three hollyhock leaves - the Tokugawa family crest.

 

Hideyoshi's flesh and bones were dissolved into the ground at a painfully languid pace, leaving behind rouge coloured robes and an unyielding outgrowth of lilies.

 

The spider lilies had evolved into a cancerous growth. The crane's feathers mutated into a sickening shade of crimson. The innocent white snow around him now tainted blood red.

 

His vision was overflowing with red. He slammed his eyes shut and ran his hands through his hair, tightly grabbing the sides of his head.

 

_Let this end! Let it end already!_

 

Mitsunari's mind started to buckle as it was perpetually forced to repeat the same memory, over and over.

 

Countless disembodied voices buzzed in his head.

 

"Mitsunari, you're like a son to me...", a calm voice echoed.

 

"I'm sorry, this place just has so many painful memories... I hope you boys can be on your best behaviour!", a motherly voice spoke.

 

The once pleasant voices transformed into malicious exclamations.

 

"Mitsunari, how could you do this to us? You said the three of us would be together forever!", one more roared.

 

"Such insult! Your impetuousness will cost you, Fox!", a low voice spat.

 

"Maybe there would be more friends in your heart if you weren't so in love with yourself", another scolded.

 

"You lonely, bitter Fox... Hah, I pity you!", a voice filled with derision.

 

The voices overlapped and converged, creating an unholy amalgamation of vociferation. Familiar voices became unrecognizable from this discord.

 

Mitsunari's head was throbbing. An earthquake manifested in his head. It convulsed and shook, forcing Mitsunari to let out a painful moan. Nausea crawled up in his throat. Every breath he drew in became painful, piercing and frigid.

_Calm yourself, idiot! Calm yourself!_

 

He tore open his eyes. He was back in his dull, dreary room. He inhaled deeply, in between his jagged breaths. Stability recovered bit by bit with each gasp of air.

 

Finally, his hands were no longer shaking after some time. The splitting headache and the voices gradually faded away.

 

He glanced at the flickering candle on his workbench. The faint candlelight comforted him somewhat. Then he shifted his attention to the neat stack of papers beside him.

 

I am in no condition to work, he thought.

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

"Come, sit with me", a mellow voice called out from behind.

 

Mitsunari jolted and let out a small gasp. He quickly dried his eyes with his sleeves and smoothed out his dishevelled hair.

 

"You... you've heard everything...", Mitsunari said sheepishly.

 

"Of course I did", the voice replied.

 

"How long?"

 

"You should know... you were the one who invited me"

 

A hand popped out from behind the two paper screens separating the room from the terrace. It gestured Mitsunari come closer. The hand wore golden claws similar to that of Mitsunari's. A figure of a man could be seen through the partially visible partition. His presence was that of a ghost's. From the moment he stepped into Mitsunari's quarters, he never made an attempt to draw attention to himself.

 

Mitsunari let out a brief sigh and dragged himself to the direction of the soothing voice. A small creak sounded beneath his feet every time he took a step. He felt that his steps were unusually heavy...

 

He popped his head out through the small gap in the middle of the partition. Then the rest of his body followed.

 

He caught the attention of a pair of azure eyes. The wraith-like figure had long, ink-like strands of hair carelessly draped over his shoulders all the way to his waist. Slightly torn bandages tightly hugged his calves, clearly revealing the curves.

 

Unfortunately, the opposite could be said when looking at the rest of him. A thick, ultramarine scarf completely obscured the bottom half of his face. Snowy robes covered most of his body except the lower halves of his arms and legs. It had a slight light blue tint at the hem of the sleeves and at the bottom of his robes.

 

Despite most of his face and figure were hidden and his clothes were a cold blue colour, the atmosphere around him was warm and welcoming.

 

Mitsunari felt an immense embarrassment on his face. He placed his fingers on his forehead.

 

He had invited a dear friend for tea, all the while forgetting about him completely. On top of that, he heard Mitsunari's odd murmurs and feeble cries.

 

Mitsunari, a highly renowned Toyotomi's master of tea ceremony? Hah! How humorous!

 

 _What rudeness! How utterly shameful, even to a friend.._. ,Mitsunari thought.

 

_Ah, how I want to throw myself in the freezing waters of Anegawa..._

 

The figure remained in a relaxed sitting position. His back leaning on the paper screen behind him and his right leg slightly bent upwards. His right hand was perched on top of his bent knee, and the other patting the wooden floorboards next to him.

 

Mitsunari thickened his face and awkwardly sat down next to him. He could feel those eyes locked onto him, observing his every move.

 

"Here, I made some tea", said the gentle voice.

 

A porcelain cup is presented in front of Mitsunari. The golden Toyotomi family crest was proudly embroidered on it. Mitsunari winced a little.

 

Although Mitsunari's posture was stiff and straight like a board, his head hung low. He mustered some courage and finally spoke.

 

"Yoshitsugu... I apologize, I have not been a good host", Mitsunari slowly spoke.

 

"I don't mind. Please do not apologize."

 

Mitsunari raised his head a little to catch a glimpse of the person he was talking to. Sure enough, those azure eyes met his gaze. An inexplicable feeling swept over Mitsunari.

_This again?_

 

He quickly averted his gaze. Instead, he focused on the evergreen of the garden ahead.

 

Lush greenery gently swayed with each gust of wind. Countless bright fuzzy yellow dots pulsated amidst the darkness. Mayflies and fireflies danced beautifully under the soft moonlight. The moon's magnificent light was reflected across the crystal-clear koi pond. It was a marvellous sight to behold.

 

In the thick of timber and foliage, however, a number of red lilies sprouted from the ground, polluting the sublime emerald sea.

 

The spider lilies which haunted his dreams. The same spider lilies which was forever singed in his memories.

 

Its nauseatingly glaring red colour made Mitsunari click his tongue in disgust. He had an urge to rip one out from the dirt when a tiny mayfly hovered near his hand.

 

Its dainty little legs rested on Mitsunari's forearm. Its translucent lacy wings fluttered ceaselessly. Upon closer inspection, its head was decorated in brown markings.

 

_Mayflies…?_

 

The mayfly gracefully took off and glided to the direction of the pond.

 

The odd feeling surged through him again. Now with even greater magnitude. It felt like a snake was squirming in his chest, then moving to his stomach.

 

Mitsunari massaged the area between his eyebrows.

 

What were these feelings exactly? Resentment? Grief? Anger? Disgust? No. Mitsunari could confidently cross these out from the list.

 

The question he had been trying to answer these past few years left him distraught. A strange sentiment usually, if not, always rose up in his chest whenever the two are alone. Mitsunari always solely relied on numbers and calculations. This time, nothing can help.

 

When they first met, he harboured no feelings at all. Only after a certain encounter did he start noticing something odd.

 

Mitsunari intently stared at the teacup. Inside was jade coloured tea, with a thin wisp of steam rising from it.

 

He recalled a time where he and Yoshitsugu were paired up to conduct an ambush in Odawara Castle about four years ago. This was the first time he experienced these perplexing emotions.

 

The two were tasked to lay siege to the castle, resulting in the withdrawal of the Uesugi. This was the beginning of Mitsunari's rise in his ranks as well as his blooming friendship with Yoshitsugu.

 

The night was young and the moon had just awoken from its slumber. A chilling sense of restlessness permeated the air. The grand castle lay silent. The hushed whispers from nearby guards and foot soldiers drifted along the cold winds.

 

He vividly remembered how Yoshitsugu would conjure up glowing amethyst mayflies from his sleeves. Yoshitsugu fought elegantly. His steps were light and his moves were precise. Calculated. _Perfect_.

 

The mayflies danced around him delightfully, occasionally sending enemies flying with small dazzling bursts of energy and leaving neon trails of deep purple in the air. His loose robes fluttered in the wind as if made of paper.

 

His ocean eyes have no indication of apprehension nor fear. Waves of enemies were slain without him breaking a sweat. Powerful officers were executed without a single strand of his pitch-dark hair being out of place.

 

The ghostly white garments he wore starkly contrasted the tip of his saihai* which was tainted crimson. The said garments concealed most of his body, including half his face.

 

The air around him was enveloped in mystery, yet it was so alluring.

 

"A vengeful ghost!"

 

"It's the ghost general!! Run!!"

 

The battlefield was shrouded in the terrified cries of infantrymen. They ran away with their tails between their legs.

 

Mitsunari observed him with hypervigilance. He could only watch in awe.

 

Yoshitsugu ceased his attacks after a while as a number of enemies have retreated. With the flick of a wrist, the mayflies now disappeared in thin air without a sound.

 

He slowly turned to Mitsunari, his eyes that was once frozen with tranquillity melted away in an instant. Now his eyes formed into two crescent moons, which seemed to indicate that he was smiling.

 

He calmly walked towards Mitsunari.

 

"Master Mitsunari", he slightly bowed to show respect, “We are to rendezvous with the others in the entrance of the castle. The remaining enemy forces have withdrawn.”

 

The snake awoke in his body. It squirmed and writhed from his chest to his stomach and all the way to his extremities.

 

"Master Mitsunari?", again, he called out.

 

Mitsunari's heart raced. It was about to pop out from his chest at any moment. He felt all the bones on his legs dissipated and would no longer support him, yet he stood firmly on the ground.

 

Yoshitsugu walked briskly this time. He stopped right in front of Mitsunari, his eyes filled to the brim with worry.

 

"Master Mitsunari... are you hurt? You look unwell", he asked in a tenderly manner.

 

Yoshitsugu dropped his weapon and took the initiative to check him for fatal wounds. Mitsunari felt his hands feeling around his torso, his arms, his shoulders, his neck...

 

His grip tightened around his metal fan. Colour immediately rushed to his face. He could feel his ears and his face turning red hot. On the contrary, his body was frozen in place. Talking and moving was no longer an option. He could only bite down his lower lip.

 

He then placed his palm on Mitsunari's forehead to check his temperature. There was no distance between them.

 

"Master Mitsunari, please answer me."

 

Yoshitsugu gripped Mitsunari's shoulders and shook him a little. His gaze was fixed on Mitsunari's flushed face.

 

Those serene eyes met his and they stared at each other indefinitely. Neither were able to break out of this stalemate.

 

_Ah, those eyes..._

 

"...ster Mitsu...?", his voice gradually becomes hazy as he feels his mind going blank.

 

_Those eyes were really beautiful..._

 

\-----------------

 

A tap on his shoulder snapped him from his daze.

 

"Mitsunari? Hello? Are you there?", that soft voice now slightly raised.

 

"Huh? What?"

 

Mitsunari subconsciously placed his hand over his face, covering his eyes. He quickly retracted his hand and turned to his friend, eyes wide.

 

"Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall...", Yoshitsugu slightly shook his head, "You haven't drunk the tea..."

 

Yoshitsugu squinted his eyes and scrutinized his face.

 

"Ah, your face is really red", he paused for a moment.

 

"Is it a woman? Did a pretty lady you like reject you?", he said jokingly.

 

He leaned closer to Mitsunari. Yoshitsugu's shoulders slightly brushed against his.

 

"Who is it? You can tell me. It's Lady Koshosho isn't it? Hehe…"

 

Mitsunari massaged the area between his eyebrows once more and took a big sip of tea. It's lukewarm now... how long had he been in deep thought?

 

"No, Yoshitsugu, I'm not thinking about a woman."

 

Mitsunari corrected his posture and he let out a worn-out sigh.

 

"I was deciding if I should travel to Shikoku or stay here in Sawayama...", he paused.

 

"...I don't concern myself with women at the moment.", he muttered.

 

Fatigue was evident in Mitsunari's voice. Every word he uttered sounded like a heavy burden. Every syllable draining his energy bit by bit.

 

Mitsunari hardened his expression.

 

"Please forgive me from earlier, however I urgently need to discuss something...”, he continued, "Report to me the situation in Aizu."

 

Yoshitsugu straightened his back and crossed his legs.

 

"My men have supressed the remaining forces.", he said in a serious tone.

 

Mitsunari nodded. "Good, good."

 

"I have no need to return there.", Yoshitsugu chimed in.

 

Mitsunari beamed. His face lit up and colour returned to his snowy cheeks. The air around him relaxed considerably.

 

"I knew I could count on you, Yoshitsugu."

 

"Hm."

 

Yoshitsugu knew his response would cheer him up. He was content he could lift his mood at a time like this, even only a little.

 

He shifted his position to face Mitsunari and carefully studied his appearance.

 

The soft moonlight casted delicate shadows on his immaculate features. His rosy lips still curled up in satisfaction only accentuated his charm.

 

Alas, anguish and grief had ravaged his eyes. A beast had devoured most of its essence, leaving only vestigial flickers of bliss. Now sunken and jaded, they harshly opposed his ethereal beauty.

 

Seeing this, Yoshitsugu felt like he would do anything to bring back the chestnut eyes he fell in love with all those years ago. Those eyes burned with intensity and fervour.

 

Yoshitsugu's paradox of him relishing the doomed path and the indulgence of simply seeing Mitsunari's warm smile frustrated him to no end.

 

The flow had promised him a perfect future. It whispered in Yoshitsugu's ears: Japan unified under the Toyotomi flag, the sudden halt of bloodshed, Mitsunari in his arms.

 

Nevertheless, he _oh so badly_ wanted to keep resisting the amicable flow that had ridiculed him so.

 

Somehow, he was drawn to ill fate, like a moth to a flame.

 

\- - - - - - -

 

Mitsunari raised his eyebrows, "...Why are you staring at me like that...?"

 

The snake had made its way to Mitsunari's chest once more with its tail tightly wound around his heart.

 

"Never mind.", Mitsunari waved his hand and cleared his throat.

 

"We shall head to Sekigahara next. After Shikoku that is. That Kobayakawa worries me."

 

Mitsunari pronounced _Kobayakawa_ with great annoyance.

 

"Sekigahara? I see..."

 

A terrible sense of foreboding boiled in Yoshitsugu's stomach. The flow had once foretold him of the bad omen years ago.

 

"You'll join me?", Mitsunari smiled.

 

Silence.

 

After the fall of the Azai, Yoshitsugu unwaveringly swore to oppose the tide. He savoured the taste of perilous journeys. The euphoria of being fully aware of the damned path he walks on injected him with spirit and vigour.

 

The flow whispered close in his ear yet again.

 

_Do it for him._

 

The overwhelmingly alluring temptation of a future with Mitsunari made him give in to the flow. Just once more. For him.

 

"Mitsunari, I ask you to rethink your decision once more.”, Yoshitsugu calmly said.

 

The corners of Mitsunari's lips slowly tilted downwards. A dejected expression arose on his face. The cheery colour on his cheeks disappeared instantly.

 

Yoshitsugu couldn't help but to feel a twinge of guilt.

 

"...What? You won't aide me?", his despondent voice pierced through the silence.

 

"Yoshitsugu, I-", Mitsunari cleared his throat, "We need you. You are an asset to this army."

 

"Mitsunari, please do not be so rash. Sekigahara would put us to a disadvantage. So many lives could be lost. Going against the Tokugawa is a death wish.", Yoshitsugu said coolly.

 

"After all we've gone through? After all we've achieved? Yoshitsugu, I _cannot_ let that raccoon win! We are _so close!_ ", a roar was expelled from his mouth. A roar that was woven together with animosity.

 

"I understand, Mitsunari. Although I feel that the best course of action would be to reconcile with the Tokugawa. It is the only way to achieve peace.", his voice free from enmity and turbulence.

 

“ _No, you do not_. Yoshitsugu, do you take me as a coward?”, Mitsunari shot him a glare that could burn through thousands of scrolls. The beast had completely overtaken his eyes.

 

“No, it was never my intention to call you a coward. Casualty could be significantly reduced by allying with the Tokugawa.”

 

Mitsunari scrunched his whole face, as if he had swallowed something vile.

 

"What? How could you say that? You were the one who said I shouldn’t trust that raccoon. You were the one who wanted to see a world created by _me._ "

 

"Come to your senses, Mitsunari. Listen to-"

 

"No. You are relieved from your duties, Yoshitsugu", Mitsunari interjected.

 

"Are you going to discard me along with your other pawns, Mitsunari?", he callously remarked, "Will you send me to Osaka next? Like you did to Kiyomasa?"

 

"Yoshitsugu. You can leave. _Now_.", Mitsunari's fists balled up, his claws painfully digging into his palms.

 

"You are truly worthy of the title of Fox of Sawayama, Mitsunari."

 

Fuelled with rage, he seized the Yoshitsugu's snowy robes with both hands and vigorously pulled it towards him.

 

" _Say that again._ ", his tone interlaced with thorns.

 

Mitsunari had positioned himself on top of him. His shaky breath had condensed into clusters of vapour in the cold air, shrouding his vision even more.

 

"Say it!"

 

But nor mist nor sound came out from Yoshitsugu's mouth. Mitsunari only received a glacial gaze in return.

 

"Say something!"

 

Nothing.

 

"When you insult me at least show some face!"

 

He pulled away the blue scarf, revealing the lower half of the youth's face. A surreal, handsome face enough to make Mitsunari's breath hitch. The soft ultramarine scarf cascaded onto his arms.

 

The youth had an extremely pale complexion, though he had skin as fair as pearls. His pale thin lips were slightly angled downwards. His high bridge nose and sharp jawline enchanted Mitsunari, stopping his rage dead in its tracks and allowing the snake to come alive for the umpteenth time.

 

 _So, this is what he has been hiding this whole time?_  he thought.

 

Mitsunari had never seen him take off his scarf or shown his face for that matter, not even when he was visiting the hot springs. All this time he assumed he had been hiding a scar or birthmark or... something? Perhaps his face was not meant to be seen? A curse? Yoshitsugu was always talking about a curse...

 _No, that couldn't be it_.

No matter the reason, Yoshitsugu didn't want anyone to look at his face. As a result, Mitsunari felt a bit guilty for forcefully tearing away his scarf. It was as if he just had desecrated a sacred object.

 

Still, Mitsunari couldn't help but to study every single detail of his face. Every detail he hoped to never forget. His thin eyebrows. His short length eyelashes. His nose. His lips. And how could he forget those eyes? A flashback to Odawara Castle. Ocean eyes. Mitsunari was again pulled into a trance. Serene eyes.

 

Yoshitsugu's face inched closer and closer until Mitsunari could feel something cold grazing his lips. Mitsunari caught a whiff of a mild fragrance of sandalwood. Yoshitsugu then ran his fingers through Mitsunari's smooth hair and held the back of his head, locking him in his place. He drew Mitsunari closer, pulling him into a much deeper kiss.

 

Mitsunari’s mind came to a screeching halt. His thought process could no longer function. He felt his heart burst out from his ribcage, the oxygen travelling to his lungs cut off immediately. His eyes widened and quickly shut right after.

 

The tip of Yoshitsugu's metallic claw slowly trailed down his back, carefully tracing his spine. His fingertips shamefully danced on his waist. Mitsunari let out a small yelp. He felt thrill surging through the lower half of his body, making him clutch his snowy robes even tighter.

 

The moment felt like an eternity. Mitsunari spiralled into rapture. The ambiguous feelings he had dealt with, the answer to the question he had been desperately seeking all these years has been right under his nose all along.

 

It was longing. Longing for his touch. Longing for his affection.

 

Mitsunari slightly parted his quivering lips and let his velvety tongue slide in. A series of soft and stifled moans escaped from between his lips. He could feel the faint taste of tea slowly trickling into his mouth. A fire ignited in his chest, instantaneously spreading up to his throat.

 

Their chests were pressed against each other, allowing them to hear the racing heartbeats of one another. He could feel Yoshitsugu's warmth permeating his robes bit by bit. Their hands intertwined like vines, a comforting gesture.

 

Could it be that an unseen force had entangled their ill fates? Could it grant these two a moment of peace, letting them hold each other in a lover's embrace just until the war ends? Could it give some hope or miracle that will ensure nothing would be able to tear them apart, even after death?

 

The flow pitilessly laughed at this notion. She could either be a benevolent goddess blessing you with salvation or a slow rising tide carrying a vindictive rage… a cruel mistress.

 

Mitsunari wanted to keep going, however his lungs said otherwise. Their lips finally parted after a million or so heartbeats. He couldn't bring himself to snap out of his daze. He laid on top of Yoshitsugu, motionless in drunken stupor. The sweet, sweet taste of tea was still lingering in his mouth and so was the seductive scent of sandalwood still being ever-present in the air. Their breaths were quick and shallow, hands still tangled in a complicated mess.

 

"Mm, you look adorable when you're flustered, Mitsunari...", his thin lips were stretched into a bewitching smile.

 

 _He’s really smiling!_   Mitsunari felt his heart twisting into a knot.

 

Yoshitsugu's cold expression and icy visage had completely melted. It puzzled Mitsunari how his pale face managed to keep its colour... of white. Completely white as a sheet. A colour deprived of colours. Only his ears had slightly changed to a soft shade of red.

 

Yoshitsugu gently pushed away the loose strands of auburn hair obscuring Mitsunari's face.

 

"Mitsunari... I don't want a future created by you... I want a future with you. The two of us.", Yoshitsugu sweetly smiled.

 

His voice so ardent and hypnotizing, Mitsunari can feel the snake frantically tossing and turning inside him. No one had ever spoken to him so intimately.

 

He cupped Mitsunari's cheek with the palm of his hand.

 

"I want you to be safe. I want to protect you. I want to spend more time with you. I want to stay with you like this."

 

Oh, how sweet and saccharine his voice was. How could anyone decline? It made Mitsunari forget the weight on his shoulders that was mercilessly crushing him for the past few months for a moment.

 

_Make me forget. Make it go away. Just for a few minutes. A few seconds._

 

Mitsunari wished to embrace him and kiss him again but he restrained himself.

 

Mitsunari whispered, "You... Yoshitsugu..."

No matter how hard his brain tried to form complete sentences, his mouth just wouldn't cooperate.

 

"I apologize for what I said earlier, Mitsunari. Calling you Fox was very inappropriate of me, I shouldn’t have done that.", his tone and expression apologetic.

 

Mitsunari nodded slightly.

 

Yoshitsugu continued while lightly caressing his cheek, “Be that as it may… I still need to speak with you regarding Sekigahara”

 

"Don't...", Mitsunari averted his gaze and let go of his firm grasp of Yoshitsugu’s hand. He spoke in a defeated tone.

 

"Going to Sekigahara will kill you. Mitsunari, _please listen to me_."

 

Another feeling rose up in Mitsunari’s chest. It was another alien feeling. He inhaled slowly to gain composure.

 

"I cannot give up on my dream. I've worked so hard. I will not throw away years of progress. I will not lose face to that raccoon. I will not join forces with him.”, an unyielding determination was clear in his voice.

"Yoshitsugu. If you truly care about me... help me realize my dream.”, Mitsunari’s eyes stubbornly fixed on his.

 

Another pause of silence. The animals have all retreated deep into the forest. All the mayflies and fireflies earlier have stopped burning. No winds have blown. Dead silence.

 

"I will not let you trade your life for your dream, Mitsunari. I won’t.”

 

Mitsunari’s lips twitched.

 

He continued,” I have decided that I will retire and will not offer you my services any longer if you choose to go ahead with Sekigahara."

 

Mitsunari's expression froze. His mind halted once more. _Static_. All he can hear was static.

 

"If you won't reconcile with the Tokugawa, you will not see me anymore", his enunciation was slow and steady. Yoshitsugu removed his hand from his cheek.

 

_Static. Static. Static._

 

Mitsunari jerked his head sideways and pushed him away.

 

"What... What do you want from me? You...", Mitsunari bit his lower lip.

 

He thought finally, _finally_ he could identify and acknowledge his feelings. Love. Longing. He finally accepted the snake inside him wasn't poison. He finally understood why he felt so odd around Yoshitsugu.

 

But then why was there suddenly another feeling in his gut? Similar to anger, abandonment, dejection. Maybe a mix of these three. Some kind of venom had ironically killed all traces of the familiar snake.

 

"Why?! Why did you have to confess your feelings?", Mitsunari bashed the wooden frame of the partition beside him. The animosity in his voice started to resurface.

 

Mitsunari felt a spiral of emotions brewing inside his chest. Loving Yoshitsugu meant his dreams would crumble into dust. Going forward to Sekigahara meant the love of his life would no longer stay by his side.

 

"...Why did you...", Mitsunari rubbed his lips with the back of his hand.

 

Yoshitsugu now felt a pang of guilt. All these years spending time with Mitsunari he should've known he would be so adamant. Had he made things worse? Had he been too selfish?

 

 “You dumb. Buffoon. You. Foolish. Idiot. _Stupid_.”, Mitsunari’s voice cracked at the end.

 

“Mitsunari-”, desperation becoming more and more evident in Yoshitsugu’s voice. He reached for Mitsunari’s forearm.

 

Mitsunari quickly flicked his wrists.

 

 “So be it, Yoshitsugu. You can do anything whatever you see fit. Retire. Leave. Run away.”, bitter indifference overflowing in his voice.

 

Mitsunari regained his bearings and slowly got up to his feet. His glare was still glued to Yoshitsugu’s remorseful expression.

 

“I will not let anything get in the way of my conquest. Not even you.”

 

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

 

The cold Sawayama mountain breeze decided to blow yet again. The winds struck the sonorous brass wind chimes, creating a resonant orchestra of harmonious ringing and clinking. The swarm of mayflies have ceased to exist. The gleaming moon still hung in the dark sky, now looking a bit soulless.

 

The flow giggled heartlessly seeing all of this unfold before her. She patronizingly whispered in Yoshitsugu’s ear.

_You’ve tried your best._

 

**Author's Note:**

> *saihai - bro i dont know what that is... his weapon basically, no english translation
> 
> i watched the finale of chowder at 1 am while posting this dont ask why
> 
> My second attempt of fanfiction after a long ass time... my first attempt was a Pokemon fanfic... 5 years ago lmao
> 
> ok i wrote this on my phone and transferred it to my pc, it has weird spacing between the paragraphs now ah fuck it
> 
> why am i posting this sorry if your corneas burned from all the bad writing and cringe


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